Without ever really meaning to, my brain has started cross-referencing my favorite bakeries and mentioning them to me – and thus, often, to those around me – whenever I’m nearby. And since I often find myself in Belleville to stock up on tahini (yes, I eat tahini every day; no, I show no signs of stopping; no, I never tire of it), I also often find myself saying, “Oh, we’re not far from Le Petit Grain.”
Which usually means that I often find myself at Le Petit Grain.
Unlike many other on-trend bakeries specializing in sourdough, Le Petit Grain keeps its offerings relatively simple and stalwart: about a dozen breads and a few ever-present viennoiseries, including a sourdough croissant and this little beauty that has quickly become my favorite: a ginger-sesame kouign amann.
Kouign amann is a Breton baked good that, until a few years ago, was fairly uncommonly found in Paris, except at Georges Larnicol, which specialized in them. Literally translating to “butter cake,” a kouign amann is a hefty bugger of a viennoiserie with a laminated dough (like a croissant) layered with not just butter but sugar. It has unsurprisingly become a frequent offering at on-trend bakeries hoping to offer something new and entticing.
Le Petit Grain does a few different kouign amanns, including this tasty pecan version. But I can’t help staying loyal to my original fave. The spice of the ginger and nutty earthiness of the sesame exist in perfect harmony with the conservative pound or so of butter baked into each one.
Le Petit Grain also does occasional seasonal pastries, like this Easter egg I bought a few weeks back.
It was basically like a Snickers on crack with a shortbread garnish.
Yes please.
Speaking of that shortbread, it featured quite prominently in this seasonal specialty I snagged recently: a strawberry tartlet.
(Can you blame me?)
Baked into that buttery, shattery pastry shell was an equally buttery and oh-so-tender vanilla cake. Layered on top was a vanilla cream, followed by some sort of strawberry gel or coulis – just enough to make the top pink before fresh strawberry slices were layered on top.
It is, quite frankly, the bomb.
It was hard for this perfectly serviceable cinnamon roll to compete, but it is indeed tasty, spiked either with sour cream or sourdough (or maybe a bit of both?) for a nice balance of acidity and sweetness.
This American could have used a touch more cinnamon, but let’s not quibble.
And while I love the pastries and viennoiseries at le Petit Grain, I’ve got to finish this elegy by spending a moment with the bread.
Here’s the thing. Le Petit Grain, like many trendy bakeries in Paris these days, is big into buckwheat. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. This does mean that there are some breads here that your anaphylaxis-afflicted pastry-taster can’t try, but there’s also one that I can, and do, and adore.
The 100% rye sourdough is a thing of beauty, with an ultra-dense crumb and just the right amount of zing. It hits what is, for me, the bread sweet spot: it’s got loads of flavor on its own, but it also doesn’t overpower cheese. It’s the ideal vehicle for buttered toast or grilled cheese, as the little tiny holes don’t allow any of your toppings to escape. And even if I’m not in the mood for a sweet, it makes Le Petit Grain eternally worth a detour.
Le Petit Grain – 7, rue Denoyez, 75020Â